


Intercept To Fumble

by Hambone



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Forced Sex, M/M, Recording, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tricksters, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 23:07:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2891471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some Decepticon brats get ahold of Jazz and Blurr's private property and put them in a sticky situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intercept To Fumble

**Author's Note:**

> Another drabble for Tumblr.

“Touch each other. Y’know, like in the videos.”

“You can’t control someone like that, you lawless scum, how dare you!”

Blurr pulled Jazz closer to him as though he needed protecting, as though he had that comfort to give. The Decepticon spawn -  minicons - whatever they were cross arms with one another and snickered nastily, brandishing their blasters higher while the flyers watched.

“Heh,” the blue one laughed, “we ain’t been scopin’ your conversations for the boss the past three lunar cycles just to let ya off like that. We want a show.”

“Those signals were beyond Elite Guard level tech. how the fresh hell did you get them?”

To his credit, Jazz seemed much more surprised than actually worried. Sure, they were in a sticky situation, potentially literal, but these Cons were significantly smaller than the normal variety and clearly less experienced, even with their blasters practically singing holes in his paint job. The red one whacked at the dirt with his, making the bird squawk.

“Oh, I dunno, it was only, like, the entire reason we were created!”

“For us and us alone? How flattering.”

Blurr gave his best nonplussed look.

“Just give it up and let us go before the backup arrives and you get reduced to nothing more than an oily smear on the pavement.”

“Ha! You don’t got no backup!”

The twins elbowed each other.

“You ain't got a message out since we first triangulated your position, doofus.”

“Yeah, and now you’re gonna put on a show for us like good little Botties or we’re gonna blast your tops off! And probably send the tapes around to every Autoboob station on the network.”

“Now slow down, greased lightning. What tapes do you even mean?”

One of the birds screeched at them, making the Autobots clutch one another more tightly, somewhat in shock, but the red twin sighed and pulled a small projector chip from his arm.

“These tapes, idiot,” and a small hologram of Jazz himself appeared over his arm lewdly displaying his spike and valve. Before any one of them reacted, the imaged changed to an equally incriminating one of Blurr, then back to a differently positions Jazz, and so on and so forth. They turned to face each other.

“What are you thinking? Embarrassment or death?”

“Baby, I’m thinkin’ it may be both.”

The twins grinned.

“Open up and spread ‘em!”

“Nice and showy-like.”

There was little they could do but comply. Completely unaroused, their cords lay collapsed inside their housing, but Blurr’s valve was, as usual, wet with runoff from his usually heavily lubricated hip joints. He wasn’t at all interested in showing this off at the moment, but they really hadn't called for backup and he had always been taught to stall until escape became probable. He could have outrun these bots on his own, but Jazz was too heavy for him to run with and even if he took one rifle down fast there was still enough time for the birds to shoot down his mate where he sat. Even his extensive training as a Cyberninja couldn’t save him from hot light in his brain casing.

Jazz wasn’t an Intelligence Agent either, which meant that he had never been trained for situations like these. Battle, sure. Capture? Likely. Not performance. Not lies. Not the honeypot missions Blurr had been prepared for since his fourth vorn in the high level force. Pulling his legs apart, Blurr subtly positioned himself in front of his mate and showed himself off.

“Nice!”

“Shaddup,” the red twin batted at his brother, “show us some real action. We didn’t come here for snapshots.”

“Blurr,” said Jazz, putting a hand on his shoulder, “really?” but Blurr was already angling himself up and holding his valve apart with two fingers. It was easy to fake arousal when he was naturally this ready, easier still to coax his body to react to his touch.

“No whispering!” said the blue one, more loudly than necessary.

“If you’re gonna blab, do it dirty like in your videos.”

A sound clip bubbled up from his wrist piece, Blurr begging, _oh, oh I miss you so much, I miss your spike inside me-!_

“Okay, okay, okay,” Blurr held up his hands, silencing them, “okay.”

Jazz gave him a look, almost amused.

“You aren’t really gonna do this, are you?”

“Yes,” Blurr ground out, showing himself off again. He relaxed himself, scissoring some fingers inside to flaunt his elasticity, the head of his spike finally nosing from its housing. While none of his appealed to Jazz, he wasn’t about to let his partner go it alone, scooting up beside him and running fingers down his headlights. He wasn’t quite revved enough to touch his equipment, not yet, but he let himself show what was there, uncrossing his legs and trying to copy Blurr’s seductive movements. It was a lot easier to do when he was in the groove and not at the feet of some demented Decepticons.

“Play with each other,” one booed, “if I wanted to see someone fumbling over their own snatch I could just watch Frenzy.”

“Shut your damn-!”

They swatted at each other’s faces, snarling a bit, and Blurr thought he’d seen an opening for a half klik, but then one of the bird rustled, as if to remind him of its presence, and he settled back down.

“Fraggin’ ‘face, slime!”

The blue one actually stepped out, aiming to hit Blurr in the head with the butt of his gun. He missed, of course, because Blurr saw it coming and there was little he couldn’t avoid if he saw it, but he got the picture.

“Jazz,” he whispered.

“I know, baby.”

Perhaps it was too romantic of a moment. They flew into a kiss, suddenly passionate and all about touching and holding. Jazz hiked a leg up over Blurr’s hips and Blurr pushed in close, mouthing at his strong jaw.

“Now _that’s_ more like it!”

It threw them out of synch to hear their temporary captors speak. Jazz ducked his helm to hide his grin.

“Well don’t stop!”

More weapons were waved. Begrudgingly, at least by appearance, they continued to press together. Meaningful looks were passed. Were the twins recording this? Blurr wasn’t even sure they had the capacity, and Jazz wasn’t giving out any indicators. It was likely he would have sensed if they were being broadcast, at the very least, but neither of them had known their private conversations were being intercepted either.

The only way they could get past the guards unscathed, as far as either could see, was to distract them. Luckily, distractions were something they weren’t above stooping to provide.

“Mm, Blurr, you are somethin’ else, you know that?”

Jazz ground his hips down, the lippy flaps of his valve kissing the swelling head of Blurr’s spike.

_I hope you know what you’re doin’,_ he flashed the binary code across his badge.

_They’re nothing but horny kids. I think they don’t even know what they’re doing._

That made them both smile, but they managed to hide it in a kiss.

If these Decepticons wanted a show, they’d get a show alright. Already the blue one’s hand was itching towards his panel. In a few kliks, in the thick of things, he’d probably have to put down his gun.

_Think you can make me overload before we blow this joint?_

_Let’s find out._


End file.
